


Methods of Interrogation

by Evillen, QDS



Category: Blitz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evillen/pseuds/Evillen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/QDS/pseuds/QDS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I did not expect to like the idea of Brant/Nash, having so heavily invested myself in my own crossover, but Evillen has convinced me with her wonderful work! This is a shorter piece, and quite dark (note: is a rape/non-con fic), but this is just how I would picture Brant reacting.</p><p>I cannot really call myself a translator because I do not know Russian. At all! (Though I'm gaining a recognition of Cyrillic characters as a result of this). I do, however, have an internet connection and several online translators, and a decent intuition of English to know how something probably ought to read when the translator's spit out some intriguing interpretations. So this is the product of that. You would be surprised by how much Google translator can convey about the writing, enough at least that you know it's good. :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Methods of Interrogation

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Метод ведения допроса](https://archiveofourown.org/works/219505) by [Evillen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evillen/pseuds/Evillen). 



> I did not expect to like the idea of Brant/Nash, having so heavily invested myself in my own crossover, but Evillen has convinced me with her wonderful work! This is a shorter piece, and quite dark (note: is a rape/non-con fic), but this is just how I would picture Brant reacting.
> 
> I cannot really call myself a translator because I do not know Russian. At all! (Though I'm gaining a recognition of Cyrillic characters as a result of this). I do, however, have an internet connection and several online translators, and a decent intuition of English to know how something probably ought to read when the translator's spit out some intriguing interpretations. So this is the product of that. You would be surprised by how much Google translator can convey about the writing, enough at least that you know it's good. :)

Weiss is thin, and has bruises all over his body. If you didn't look into his eyes – totally crazy eyes – you wouldn't be able to tell that this bloke is a ruthless killer. Brant looks at him from a distance of several centimeters, clenching his fists painfully, but not aiming to hit. Weiss emits a quiet chuckle and presses his finger to his lips, as if calling him to silence.

Though the interrogation room is empty, Brant isn't sure whether the camera is working, but now he doesn't care. The pursuit of the Blitz has exhausted him. Every day – a new body, every day – Nash's face is more and more gloomy. Every morning the coffee, which Brant makes for Porter, tastes a bit more bitter. Every night, he pours himself and Nash a little more brandy.

He thinks about Nash when he pulls Weiss up by the collar of his jacket, pulls him out from the table. On Barry's face there's a crazy grin, which doesn't resemble a human smile, and it's still there, even when Brant pushes him forward, shoving his face against the tabletop. Brant thinks of Nash when he uses his boot to kick Weiss's legs apart, catches his wrist with one hand, while the other pulls down Blitz's unresisting trousers. He thinks that he will never do this with Nash, because they're partners, because he respects Porter, because, dammit, Brant's straight, but not a fucking fag. This is just a method of interrogation. Simply torture, and nothing more. Brant thinks of Nash when he spits into his hand and rubs saliva on his hard dick, when he sharply pushes into Weiss, hissing through his teeth in pain rather than pleasure. Tears flow down Blitz's cheeks, but he doesn't think to pull away; he sobs, and moves back, impaling himself on Brant's member. And then it goes crazy; Brant moves quickly, with short deep thrusts, no longer holding Weiss's hand, and he jerks himself off until he comes with a loud groan.

Brant thinks of Nash when he closes his eyes, and it's so easy to imagine that the body beneath him is not the scummy Blitz, but someone so close that he's becoming family. He recalls the endless mornings when, after waking up in Nash's living room, he stumbled into the shower and came across Porter. The black towel in contrast to the whiteness of his skin – it seems to Brant that Nash never sunbathes. The wet hair, steamy mirror and drops of water flowing onto his collar bone. Brant would rather bite off his tongue than admit to Porter the number of times he stood under the cold shower, and then given up and pressed his thin, strong fingers to his cock. Brant can no longer hold on, and moans "fuck, Nash," when he comes. Disgusted, he pushes Weiss away, and Weiss slides to the floor, clinging to the leg of the table and curling his knees to his chin. He has huge frightened eyes, and for the first time Brant sees in them no crazy shine, only tears.

He buttons up jeans and leaves the cell, colliding with Nash in the hallway. He silently passes by, trying not to meet the Inspector's eyes. Porter stares after him, and then shifts his gaze to the small TV on a table. Weiss is on the screen, still sitting on the floor and quietly whimpering.


End file.
